


Of Secrets And Seekers

by rosenewock21



Category: Transformers Generation One
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-07-07
Updated: 2012-07-09
Packaged: 2017-11-09 09:39:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,342
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/454040
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rosenewock21/pseuds/rosenewock21
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Megatron has been keeping an important secret. But she's not the only one. Starscream/femme!Megatron.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. It Begins...

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Dellessa](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dellessa/gifts), [Camfield](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Camfield/gifts).



Title: Of Secrets And Seekers

Verse: G1

Author: Chi Shiro

Rating: T (for FFN), eventual M (M will only be posted on AO3)

Warnings: See footnotes for warnings/spoilers.

Pairings/Characters: Starscream/Megatron

Summary: It's hard to be a secretkeeper. Harder still to be found out.

Prompt: An answer to a prompt on the kinkmeme. Megatron has been keeping secrets.

Notes: I was going to wait to post this until it was finished, but my wonderful soms, Dellessa, encouraged me to share. This is dedicated to her and Camfield. You both make fandom fun.

 

OoOoOoOo

  

She didn't know how the sneaky seeker had figured it out. She'd been so careful to hide what she was. She had ridiculed Starscream for his reputation, claiming an officer should be focused more on the war effort than fragging. She had two sets of medical files; one with a security code the seeker could easily hack, a more thorough one in a safe hidden under a panel in her quarters that only saw light when Hook absolutely needed it. A false vocalizer set in place made her dark purr into a masculine rumble. Her sire had even gotten armor, custom fitted and something she never knew how he had acquired, that slipped over her frame and made her look every bit a mech.

  

Not that it was excessively hard to hide her frame. The femmes that came from miner and gladiator stock were much bulkier than the soft femmes that came from Iacon, Vos, and Praxus. They had to be. Their mechs were studier, harsher, larger, and stronger than any found in the cultured cities during the golden age. A gladiator mech would have ripped a pretty femme like Moonracer to bits. It took a certain stout breed of femme to deal with those mechs.

  

Yet they had never been respected. They had to work twice as hard for a twentieth of the respect. A femme who was still of a prime breeding age could expect just that; relentless breeding and the expectation that they would be the sole caretakers of whatever resulted. The mortality rate was criminally high among their frame type. Miners were lost to accidents frequently, if they did not starve on bad rations or glitch from poor conditions. Those who found themselves in the fighting pits were often badly injured and would later succumb to their wounds. Because of this a femme with good coding, who could produce healthy mechlets, was in high demand and would fetch a high price for the one controlling her "services".

  

She growled, hitting a bulkhead as she passed it by. How had that sneaky little glitch figured it out? She had covered every track that might have indicated what she was. Yet she had still received a datapad earlier this cycle telling her that he knew, that he would attend his shift as always, but that he expected her to be in his quarters when he was relieved from his duty.

  

Slagging Starscream!

  

She rubbed a servo over her helmet in agitation. It was quite obvious what the seeker wanted. When he believed her to be a mech he had done everything in his power to keep her out of his private quarters. Now that he knew her to be Lady, instead of Lord, Megatron he would most likely lock her away in there. A frightened tremor rattled her protoform at the thought of bearing a mechlet with wings. Did newsparked seekers have wings?

  

Why bother thinking about it. She would know soon enough.

  

She could deactivate the seeker. He couldn't breed her like organic livestock if he were offline. But he was tricky, trickier than any other mech she'd ever had the displeasure of meeting. He had most likely told his trine. They would know the moment she offlined him through their bond. Even killing all three of them did not guarantee their silence. They could spread the word around before their deactivations. Or, and it would be so like him to do this, Starscream could rig up a code in the Nemesis' main systems. If he didn't check in every so often it could broadcast whatever evidence he'd used to come to the conclusion of her femmedom. He had done similar things with other issues in the past. It was not out of the realm of possibility.

  

Besides, there was the matter of her own coding. She was not sure if it was something she had been sparked with, or if it were something that was added directly after delivery of the frame, but all femmes of her frame type had trouble resisting the orders of mechs they had imprinted on as being above them. It was that, and not the fear of being a breeder, that had made her comply when her sire wanted to pass her off as a mech. Along that same path Starscream had laid a claim that marked her as his when he'd called her out. She could no more deny him now than she could deny the energon in her lines.

  

It infuriated her. She was the high commander of the Decepticons. She was the slagmaker. She was feared throughout the universe. To be treated as being only worth the gestational chamber in her chassis was an indignity beyond all others.

  

It was a shame Hook had no knowledge of coding. He could weld them all back together but he was no scientist. To have her base code overwritten like this she'd need a scientist of great renown. Perceptor. Wheeljack. Skyfire.

  

Starscream.

  

As if the traitorous glitch would give up the one thing he now held over her.

  

She groused when she finally arrived at his door. Whether by accident or design, her second had acquired the quarters farthest from her own. She would bet her spark it had been purposefully done. It would be easier for him to scheme if he were far away from her and the prying optics of Soundwave. The cassette carrier and his symbiots had the quarters closest to her own, those that should have rightfully gone to Starscream.

  

Soundwave. She should have bonded to him when she'd had the chance. While he had never approached her in any romantic capacity he was her most loyal officer. He was also the only mech, before this day, outside of Hook to know her secret. If she'd ordered a betrothal she very much doubted he would have fought against it. Starscream couldn't have laid claim to what already was owned by another.

  

She fought back the whine that lay low in her vocalizer as she punched in the code the seeker had given her. She was Megatron. She did not whine. She hadn't whined when she had worked in the darkness of the mines alongside her sire. She hadn't whined when she had escaped into Kaon and found herself risking deactivation every cycle in the arena. She would not whine now.

  

Okay, maybe a little.

  

The seeker's outer quarters were deceptively cheery. The lighting was brighter here than any other part of the Nemesis. It made sense, seeing that his lab equipment was set off to the side on a table of its own. The desk was neatly arranged. In a space nearest a door that had to lead to the dreaded berthroom sat a low slung table and a trio of backless chairs. Again, it made sense. He would have his trine over frequently enough to need a place to entertain them, and chair backs would interfere with their wings.

  

It was the table that made her whine in spite of herself. Neatly arranged on the surface were a few datapads, some holovids, and several cubes of highgrade the seeker must have set aside from their last victory. There was none missing from their inventory. She had checked the Decepticon store room while stalling for time. It had to be his personal supply then and it was an almost flattering gesture now that she thought about it.

  

If she didn't know better she would say Starscream was attempting to woo her. Please Primus no. This was bad enough without the added humiliation of him treating this like a date. She shook her helm, it was foolish to believe the seeker was attempting actual courtship. It had to be some new trick of his. He would get her to drop her guard so she wouldn't put up as much of a fight when her next heat cycle came around. That was all, nothing more.

  

Megatron grabbed a datapad off the table in an attempt to distract herself. A history of Vos under the rule of Starscream's ancestors. How typically narcissistic of him. The next was no better. An essay, replete with images, about the role of femmes in Vosnian society. Seeker femmes were all so lithe and graceful. Even the larger flying frames like shuttles were downright willowy in comparison to femmes like her carrier. Like herself.

  

She felt a niggling of self consciousness as she tossed the datapad to the side. It was squashed ruthlessly. So what if she wasn't like the delicate frames she had seen in the images. Too bad. If Starscream didn't like it he could go back to Cybertron and reawaken some of the Vosnian femmes that were in stasis. It wasn't as if she wanted this. That she needed to impress him. She would be much happier back in her own quarters indulging in her own datapads and her secret fondness for music.

  

As if summoned by her thoughts, a tune began to softly play from speakers hidden in the walls. Not the rigid, perfectionist tones so popular among the elite in the golden age. This music was light. It flowed. It caressed her armor like a soft wind pinging against her sensors.

  

"Do you like it," the voice behind her rasped in amusement. He was close, too close. She'd let herself become so distracted that she hadn't even heard his door sliding open. If he'd noticed her startled expression he gave no indication. "It was one of my carrier's favorite pieces. It was penned by a femme whose work was very well known inside of Vosnian circles. Meant to exemplify the feeling of the rites of passage. The first flight as a recognized adult."

  

Megatron expected the seeker to reach for her as soon as he was within touching distance. Instead he bypassed her, heading for the odd chairs and the glowing energon. He leaned forward to grab a cube from the table before straightening himself to look over at her once more.

She would have had to have been blind to miss the glimmer in his optics. Something unlike anything she had ever seen before. It was not the barely contained malice that was normally there. Nor was it the sinister curiosity he barely kept in check when he had a new weapon to test or a new experiment to run. The closest she could come to placing it would be to call it a look of respect.

  

Which was nonsensical. If the flier hadn't bothered to respect her when he believed her a mech, why would he do so when he knew she was a femme? Viewed as weak even though she could tear most mechs in half? Lesser even though she commanded them all?

  

The flier took a deep gulp from his cube before continuing his lesson in Vosnian music. "It was also a piece that was favored for bonding ceremonies. The rites of passage gave young fliers cart blanche to interface with whomever caught their fancy. That first flight was as like as not to end with a mech and femme following each other home. Or a mech and a mech. Or a femme and a femme. Or, really, just a group of them would find an out of the way place to break in their adult frames. I personally have never heard of a femme from Vos making it to a bonding night with her seal intact."

  

"You act as if that's something to be proud of," Megatron spat. She couldn't hide the disgust in her voice. Femmes interfacing with femmes? She had known that fliers held little shame but that was too much. In Kaon the only femmes who interfaced with other femmes were the lowest of pleasurebots.

  

"And you act as if that's something to be ashamed of," Starscream shot back. His previously amused mood had obviously soured. "I will never understand you groundcrawlers and your ridiculous hangups. Why any of your mechs would think a femme should be ashamed of her own plating is beyond me. Did you even read the datapads I left you?"

"I..."

  

"Of course you didn't," he growled. "You wouldn't be acting so foolishly if you knew what this was all about."

  

She returned the growl, brandishing the fusion cannon even as warnings popped up in her HUD that demanded she put it down. Her coding had decided that he had a claim on her and was acting accordingly to her frame type. She fought against it, charging the weapon several times in an attempt to fire a shot. Each time the cannon fell back to her side without being discharged. She paced the quarters angrily, making sure to kick his desk with each circuit.

  

This was ridiculous. He had yet to make a move to solidify her coding. As long as he didn't ask anything of her she was free to leave. She should leave. She should blow a hole in his wall, since she couldn't seem to put one in his wings, and storm out with a flourish. His calm demeanor was grating her wires more than anything.

  

She couldn't take it any longer. "Whatever your plans are, you insufferable glitch, let's get this over with so I can return to my own quarters and wash the scent of yours off my plating."

  

"Are you sure you wouldn't like a drink," he brandished his own cube at one of the untouched ones still sitting on the table. "Not that I'm not enjoying your charming personality just as it is, mighty Megatron."

  

"I'd like to rip your wings off and shove them so far up your waste port that you would be coughing up bolts for the next lunar cycle, but I'll settle for getting this over with quickly," she bared her denta and stormed past him, hitting the release on the berthroom door. She stomped inside with all the indignity her coding would let her muster. After a few kliks it slid shut behind her with an ominous clack.

She was not there to see the sad look cut across his optics. The forlorn shake of his helm as he quickly drank down the rest of his cube. Perhaps if she'd known the state of his own coding she would not have been thrashing the berth as she waited for him to join her.

"Primus," he sent a prayer to a god he didn't really believe in. "Help me make her understand. Help me help us both."

  

OoOoOoOoOo

Warnings: Body issues, dub-con, implied familial ties, implied/future mind games.


	2. Not So Black And White

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Megatron tries her best and Starscream believes he's a corby.

Title: Of Secrets And Seekers  
  
Chapter 2: Not So Black And White  
  
Verse: G1  
  
Author: Chi Shiro  
  
Rating: T (for FFN), eventual M (M will only be posted on AO3)  
  
Warnings: See first chapter footnotes for warnings/spoilers.  
  
Pairings/Characters: Starscream/Megatron  
  
Summary: It’s hard to be a secretkeeper. Harder still to be found out.  
  
Prompt: An answer to a prompt on the kinkmeme. Megatron has been keeping secrets.  
  
Notes: This chapter kicked my butt from one end to the next. It was supposed to be at least three times this long but so much stuff has been happening offline that the writing went very slowly.  
  
OoOoOoOo  
  
Starscream's berthroom was not unlike the mech himself. It was a curious mix of dark and ostentatious. At first she had believed it was the shift from the overly bright entrance room to this one, or that Starscream simply had left his lighting low. The glitch-headed Seeker had given off the idea that he was viewing this as more than a paltry breeding. The energon, the data pads, she wouldn't put anything past him. She certainly wouldn't put it past him to lower the lighting in some sort of backwards romantic gesture. As if she could be tricked into seeing it as anything more than what it was.  
  
But no, all attempts at raising the level with her override codes proved futile. Somehow the Seeker had jury-rigged the berthroom lighting to lower levels, most likely to offset the brightness of his foreroom. Starscream could be fragging clever when he wanted to be. This odd equilibrium would have prevented the alarms from sounding that he was using extra power.  
  
Clever indeed. She supposed there could be worse qualities for her future sparklings to inherit.  
  
She couldn't help the sneer that crossed her face plates when her optics had been adjusted properly. His cleverness was a boon; his frivolity was not. It was not so much clutter, she would give him that. There was a definite level of organized chaos to his treasure trove. Paintings done on the finest woven mesh cloth. Remnants of Vos. Organic materials imported from planets they had been in trade with during the golden age. Planets that might not even exist any more. Even things from this piddly rock they were currently stationed on.  
  
It appeared she owed the Prime an apology. When reports had surfaced that a Cybertronian was looting museums near cities they were hitting for energon she had dismissed it as a human stunt to take advantage of the situation. Or another way for the Autobots to distinguish themselves from the Decepticons perhaps. But no, it had simply been Starscream being Starscream. A small table sat off to the side that was covered in glittering objects; all of them old by the standards of human reckoning. She vaguely identified the materials as gold, silver, some hematite, lapis lazuli, and an assortment of other minerals the humans viewed as precious. Starscream's collection was probably invaluable.  
  
There were some larger pieces in the Seeker's collection. A box shaped like a human mech but inlaid with rare materials. Forms carved out of a white stone, also vaguely resembling humans. All of the white stone forms were winged. Most of them grotesque chimeras that combined human appearance with those of other animals. An intriguing idea and one to put back for later. There certainly were enough test subjects wandering this planet to make it plausible.  
  
A statue of three human femmes caught her attention. Winged warriors with serpentine appendages growing from their helms. They carried some form of crude weaponry. It was done with meticulous attention to detail. Something that was most likely one of a kind, something the humans would want back. Something they could have ransomed for energon. Did the selfish Seeker never think?  
  
If she hadn’t been furious with him before, this would have tipped her into her red zone. She was always so patient with the little fool. She had given him more liberties and chances than anyone rightly should have. He rewarded her by hoarding back things that could have furthered their cause. By feeding his desire to lead an existence above others.  
  
She tossed the trinket to the floor, relishing in the destruction of the piece. It exploded in a shower of white, and she entertained a thought of a certain red and white mech going to pieces in a similar way. This was not Vos. This was not Cybetron in her so called golden age; when mechs like Starscream lived in luxury and those born into her caste starved for the comforts of others.  
  
If she ever found a way around this glitched coding a certain mech was in for a very rude awakening.  
  
A pitiful whine from the corner nearest the end of the berth caught her attention. The sound of something organic. Another whine joined it. Two somethings organic. She approached the cushioned metal cautiously, no telling what he had been doing, and peered around it. Two creatures stared back at her from their enclosure. He'd been keeping pets. Wonderful.  
  
She stared down at the black and white beasts, they looked slightly like the top Autobot officers, and they stared back. The larger of the two let out a guttural noise. The smaller joined it after it became apparent she would not beat them down for the action. She scanned her files if only to put a name to what was sure to be the latest in a long line of Starscream’s stupid stunts.  
  
Pandas.  
  
Her second was trying to keep pandas as pets. Delightful. He had better pray to every god he knew of that she never found a way around this code.  
  
The files she had located listed the creatures as rare, endangered. It would have been easy to sell them off to a private collector for fuel. Unicron in the pit, with all Starscream had managed to get his servos on they could have legally obtained resources in any number of this planet's countries and there would have been nothing the Autobots could have done about it. Stupid, selfish, glitching Seeker!  
  
This solidified her beliefs. The Seeker wanted her as a trophy. He would use her coding to lay her low in front of the troops. In front of the Autobots. Today had been her last taste of freedom and she had wasted it. She could feel the coolant welling up behind her optics. Never in her long activation had she wanted so badly to cry.  
  
She felt the hopelessness creep across her protoform. Up until this moment she had held some sliver of misguided belief that this was a game. That Starscream was simply going to blackmail her until she found a way around it. But no, Starscream was a collector of valuable things. The ability to have heirs and bring her down to grovel at his pedes would be a commodity too good for the wretched mech to pass up.  
  
The creatures were sitting up now, batting their paws at her. She suddenly hated them, hated what they represented. She wanted to pick them up and squeeze them both. She wanted to watch their organs dribble through her fingers. To listen to the sound of crunching bones. She wanted organic juices darker than her optics to sluice down her servo. To the pit with the good of the faction. She wanted to make the mech suffer. Starscream had given her no orders regarding his property yet. She was free to do as she pleased until he said otherwise.  
  
Perhaps Primus was having a rare moment of providence. That the god knew better than she did. As she leaned forward, bent on destroying the smaller of the two first, the hinge of her knee hit the edge of the berth. The resounding clang sent all thought of the bears out of her processor, her focus now on the even more hated metal.  
  
It was disgusting. A mix of organic material and some of the greatest luxuries Cybertron had ever had to offer. It was no wonder the Seeker chose to be away from the rest of the crew. Most of the mechs she commanded had been the dregs of society. Even the aerial units that had followed Starscream into her service tended to come from the Vosnian slums. A miner could work to the cycle of his deactivation and never have a proper recharging berth. But Starscream, her spoiled princeling, probably had possessed something on Cybertron that would make this wonder seem like a pittance.  
  
At least the sparklings might be well taken care of.  
  
She stiffened against the thought, unknowing and uncaring of where it had come from. She did not want sparklings. At least not under these circumstances. She certainly didn’t want Starscream’s sparklings. Even if there was a high probability they would be dangerously intelligent and cunning. A force the Autobots would have a hard time reckoning with.  
  
No!  
  
She fired quickly into the berth, smirking as the first pad erupted. The fine metallic beading that cushioned the Seeker in his recharge pooled onto the floor like so much sand from a broken hourglass. She fired again, hitting his organic coverlets. The scent of the burning bedding was a delight to her olfactory sensors.  
  
Her laugh was as malicious as any time she’d had the traitorous mech before her on his knees. Her servos clenched and unclenched in remembrance of delicate plating laid low by her own power.  
  
“I think,” the voice from the doorway was strained, “perhaps it’s time for you to leave.”  
  
Her coding pinged in worry. She had displeased her mech. Her higher processor told her coding it could go to the pit. She allowed the two to war within her for a few kliks before deciding she was not going down without a fight. “Ah, Starscream. So good of you to join me. Tell me, Seeker, how many cubes did it take for you to find the courage to come in here and face a real femme?”  
  
“If you can produce a real femme instead of the pathetic mockery you groundcrawlers are so fond of I will gladly face her, mighty Megatron,” the dismissive wave he gave her was infuriatingly smug. She could feel her internal temperature climbing into the dangerous levels. Warning popped up on her HUD in rapid succession. She ignored all of them.  
  
How dare he. How dare he! The mech was more sadistic than she’d given him credit for. He had to know what he had done when he ignited her coding. Had to know that she had spent the entire cycle skulking around her own base like some Autobot spy. Her neural circuitry was ablaze with her fury. How dare he do this to her. Further still, how dare he dismiss her. This was not a game, this was her future.


End file.
